Page 114 of Healed Hearts

“Thanks, Wren. Daddy loves them.” Julian’s voice startles me. It’s a little flat, but Idolove that even though he’s clearly not in a good headspace, he’s still trying to be present for her. He’s such a good fucking dad. I wish I could make him see what I see—what Wren clearly sees as she beams at him, pride and adoration written all over her face.

“Welcome, Daddy,” she says, grinning at him like he hung the stars.

His lips quirk up in the barest hint of a smile, but almost as soon as it’s there, it’s gone again. With a heaving sigh, he stands and moves back to the couch.

I get Wren situated with my phone again, YouTube this time, while I try to figure out what I’m going to do about this man.

Talking to him about changing his medication is definitely on my list. I’m still not sure if this is a reaction to his medicine, but at any rate, if it’s something that he’s going to need frequently, he needs to be on something he can safely take every day.

Cuddling him and taking care of him for a change is going to be first on my list. He’s always so sweet and attentive, now it’s my turn to give back to him. If I can give him even a sliver of what he’s given me, I’ll be happy. He deserves the world and I want to give it to him. I want to give him everything. Fuck, I love him.

They wanted to keep us for a few hours after Wren’s transfusion was over to monitor her, and by the time we got home, it was late. Late enough that I was half-tempted to order pizza, but I figured I better not. So after I made a quick dinner of frozen chicken tenders, mac and cheese, and broccoli that I didn’t eat, but Wren devoured, I took point in getting her ready for bed.

She was animated, talking about her day, showing off her nails to me for the fiveteenth time, telling me about how she wanted to paint Unka Beck’s too. I don’t have the deep drawl that her daddy does, but when she asked me to sing to her, I couldn’t say no. It took her no time at all to fall asleep.

Now, I get to take care of her daddy. With a kiss to her head, I make my way back to Julian.

He doesn’t even flinch when I sit down beside him. “Jules.” He turns his head to look at me. The nothingness in his eyes is breaking my heart. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

He nods, standing when I do to follow me to the bedroom.

We strip down in silence, and then we’re climbing into bed together. In a rare change of events, I open my arms to him. He looks at me in confusion for a second before scooting forward and resting his head against my chest. I bury one hand in his hair and place the other on his back, holding him to me. He lets out a shuddering breath that I can feel all the way to my toes.

He sniffles, the sound pitiful and weak. “Don’t think I can do this, Hold.”

My heart constricts. “You’re wrong, Jules. You can.” He shakes his head and I feel wetness on my bare skin. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head. I don’t force it. I let my fingers trail idly up and down his back as he cries against me. The worst kind of tears. No gasping or theatrics. No sobs. No indication of what’s happening at all except for the soft hitch in his chest every few minutes. “You’re the best dad.”

Another shake of his head. I gently tug on his hair. “You are, though. You’re so attentive and kind. Patient. You go above and beyond for her. She trusts you so much. She looks at you with stars in her eyes.”

He’s quiet. Not that I need him to speak. I just need him to know. “Her being sick isn’t your fault. She’s going to get through this. And so are you. You’re so strong. So capable. She’s a lucky little girl to have you. Watching you with her heals my inner child a little. I won’t lie.”

I pull him in a little closer, and he gets the hint, throwing his leg over mine and burying himself deeper in my embrace. “Can you look at me now?” I ask softly.

Slowly, he tilts his head back, his deep brown eyes finding mine. They’re wet with tears and full of so much sadness, it almost splits my heart in two. Pulling my hand from his hair, I wipe his tears away with my thumb, letting my touch linger on his cheekbones. “You’re not alone. I’m here. You can get through this and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch the slightest bit. I trace mindless patterns on his back, trying to soothe him. He makes a sad little sound low in his throat. “Holden,” he whispers, my name almost like a soft prayer on his lips. “I was wrong before. I said I could do this alone and I… I don’t think I can.”

His chest hitches again, more tears falling from his closed eyes. I brush them away too, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. I stay there for a second, letting my lips rest against him, trying to infuse him with strength and love. When I pull back, he opens his eyes. “You don’t have to. I’m right here.”

I roll to my side, pulling him into me. It’s a little awkward considering how much bigger he is than me, but I eventually get us in a comfortable position. If my arm isn’t asleep before I am, I’ll be surprised, but I’ll suffer just about any amount of discomfort to make sure he’s okay—that he feels safe and loved.

As I hold him in my arms, his body gets heavier. The tears don’t stop, though. Not even when the weight of his exhaustion pulls him under. “I love you, Julian. You are one of the best people I’ve ever met. I’m so thankful to have you. You mean everything to me.” I’m not sure if he can even hear me, but I’d like to think that I can speak good things into his subconscious at any rate.

When I finally start to doze off, it’s to the soft sounds of his breathing and the weight of his body against mine.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Julian

Ifeel strange when I wake up. Empty. Sad. But even more strange is that Holden is not asleep on top of me. Instead, I’m nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around me, his fingers tangled in my hair, and his leg thrown over my hip. The room is dark, and I don’t want to turn around to look at the clock to even see what time it is.

My throat’s aching and my eyes are burning. I think I cried myself to sleep. I try reflecting on the evening before, but it’s only coming in flashes. Holden taking care of Wren at the hospital. Roman showing up. Holden braiding Wren’s hair. I feltblank. Detached. Like I was watching but not seeing. Present in the room physically, but emotionally, somewhere else.

I remember climbing into bed beside Holden, his softly whispered words drawing me slowly back to him, his fingers on my back, and his body wrapped around mine, much like it is right now.

I press my lips against his chest, needing more. Needing to feel connected to him. Needing him to ground me. To let me know I’m real, and I’m here. That I’m not a ghost floating through the world.

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